Heatsink
by VergofTowels
Summary: An unprovoked attack on the Enterprise leaves the ship floundering in space. Meanwhile, Spock is experiencing symptoms of an unknown ailment... How can he possibly tell Kirk? K/S MPREG Ch.9: The Poseidon's in trouble and the Klingons aren't acting right.
1. Chapter 1

You may be wondering why I'm starting another chapterfic when I already have three to update. In that respect, you and I are in the same boat. I guess the idea just bit me and wouldn't let go! Do not fear, however! My other works shall continue to update more or less regularly, as they do already. I hope. XD

Now then, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

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It took another two hours for him to be able to walk without imagining the deck pitching beneath him. Still, he was on alert each time he stepped, waiting for the ground to be somewhere else. The hiss of fried circuits surrounded him as he made his careful way through the ship's corridors to sickbay. Now that the crisis was over, he figured he had better seek treatment.

That, and his hand was starting to lose feeling.

Predictably, the halls around the sickbay were swarming with people. He hadn't been able to get a casualty list yet, but he thought there must be a few. God, he was _doing something wrong._ Somehow he made it through the milling crowd of his crew. Maybe they led him through, he didn't know. Somehow there was Bones ahead of him.

There was no yelling, no scolding. Terrifyingly, there was worse damage than his partially-severed nerves to deal with. A hypospray for the pain, a quick cauterization, a brush with the dermal regenerator. A nurse wrapped his hand in gauze just to be sure. Take two and call me in the morning. Bones was off to deal with someone more deserving of his help.

Jim Kirk stumbled up off the medical bed and back out into his dying ship. Scotty would fix her. He knew that. But right now… All he could see was the inevitable progress of decay, stripping away her hull and breaking down life-support. He rubbed his uninjured hand across his face. He was exhausted.

Fifteen hours before, he had been reclining in the command chair. Checking his nails. They were miles and miles from the neutral zone. The neutral zone, here, was like a distant star. Apparently, like a star, you couldn't see if it was broken unless you stared at it for days and days. The radar barely registered the Klingons before they attacked.

Three birds-of-prey, one _Enterprise_. The once again only-fucking-starship in the quadrant. It was a wonder they weren't dead in the water.

The wall-comm buzzed as he passed it and he slapped it on.

"Kirk, here."

"Och, Cap'n. Engineerin' ain't as bad-off as I'd feared. I kin get impulse power online in a few hours, an' warp drive back in a few days." A crash sounded somewhere behind him and registered with a hiss of static. "I'll update you in a few, Cap'n."

"All right." His arm dropped back to his side. Where was he going now? Back to the bridge?

"Captain?"

Spock was suddenly there before him, looking as immaculate as one could be during a crisis. His jet-black hair was slightly mussed and he looked pale, but composed. He took Jim's arm.

"Are you injured?"

"No." Kirk waved the Vulcan away, belatedly calling his dignity back to him. He cleared his throat. "What's the situation on the bridge?"

"Most of the consoles have been repaired to the best of our ability. A greater overhaul will be necessary sometime in the future, but that is currently impossible." Spock folded his arms behind him and spoke as they walked. "The recommendation of Engineering is to let the situation rest until one of their men can take a look. Lieutenant Uhura has managed to send messages to Starfleet and the nearest starbase. The _Defiant _is en route to meet us in one hour."

Kirk sighed and leaned on the wall. "That's a relief."

"May I suggest that you take a break before Captain Greene arrives?" Spock's dark eyes betrayed his concern.

"Well, you can if you want to, but I don't know if it will do any good." But Kirk didn't resist when Spock pulled him gently into a nearby lab. The space was deserted, but he was glad to see that the instruments had not been badly disturbed by the attack. He could almost say that nothing had happened, in here… Spock steered him through another small door and he found himself in the Vulcan's science office. The desk was clear of the reports he saw stacked in his other officers' rooms and the space was empty of any knick-knacks or characterizing décor. Yet this was enough for him to recognize it.

"Spock…"

The Vulcan sat him down in the visitor chair and pressed his fingertips lightly to the captain's mouth. The sensation sent little tingling shivers down Kirk's spine and he began to relax. He pulled Spock down to sit astride him.

Their touches were quick, featherlight, each reaffirming the safety of the other. Each touch saying thank you God we are both still here. They made love in the dark on the uncomfortable chair, but it was better, always better, than the first time. Every new breath meant the future.

When he finished, he trembled. Spock was trembling, too, and Kirk knew then that his perfect lover had been as shaken as him by the unexpected, _unwarranted_, assault. They kissed in the silence.

"The _Defiant_ is scheduled to be here shortly," whispered Spock, pulling away just slightly from the neck of his lover.

"We'd better shower, then."

They stood slowly, only reluctantly resuming their separate lives.

-aaa-

"You handled the situation well, _Enterprise._" Captain Greene sounded sincere, and perhaps he was. It had been three years since their rookie crew had won the ship and one would hope Starfleet would have gotten over it by now. "I am sending medical relief and a complement of mechanics to help get you back on your feet."

"Thank you, sir." Kirk made a half-assed attempt at a salute. The _Defiant_ had already done a lot to clear up the situation, including send a warning to surrounding planets that there might be Klingons in the area. The birds-of-prey that had attacked earlier had been disabled by the _Enterprise_ and had self-destructed rather than be taken in tow. Hence the severe damage to his ship. "Your help is appreciated."

Greene signed out and Kirk received notice that, true to his word, emergency medical workers had appeared in the transporter rooms. He left them to their job with a grateful sigh.

"Now that the ship is in good hands, I believe that you should rest," murmured Spock, behind and to the left of his chair. "You have been awake for twenty-two hours and thirty-five minutes, more than half of that time managing a crisis situation. The strain is bad for your health."

"You're right. As always." Kirk got up from the command chair with an effort and followed his first officer off the bridge, leaving the conn to Lieutenant Briggs. They didn't speak, but took comfort in each other's presence. Thankfully, neither was waylaid on their course to their quarters, but Kirk knew they couldn't enjoy the stillness long. He would have to be up early the next day to make decisions, help out the repair crew… Write letters to the families of his dead crewmembers.

Spock input the code to unlock the captain's quarters, and Kirk didn't protest, instead allowing himself to be drawn into the dim space within. Spock undressed him and laid him down on their narrow bed, following once he had donned his sleeping robe. The Vulcan tucked himself up behind Kirk, one hand resting on the captain's hip, breathing softly against Kirk's hair.

Kirk could feel when Spock fell asleep by the rhythm of that breath, but he couldn't join his lover in slumber. There were too many things to think about, the foremost being the safety of his crew, and how he had somehow failed them.

-aaa-

It was a week before the warp engines were back online, but at least Scotty had got them working again. Now they could get back to Starbase 8 at something more than a snail's pace. They were going to need major renovations before the _Enterprise_ was ready for duty again. Luckily, Starbase 8 was outfitted with some of the latest in starship-maintenance technology. Scotty couldn't wait to get his hands on it.

Ship's systems were mostly repaired and functioning normally, if not exceptionally well. The consoles on the bridge had been put back together with spit and electrical tape, but at least most of the buttons still worked right. Chekov and Sulu were out of sickbay, their minor burns treated and already healing up. They kept the bridge's morale up by trading raunchy stories with the other crewmen stationed there. Even Uhura joined in once or twice, and she had a wealth of material. Gaila apparently talked quite a _lot_ in her sleep.

Even Spock may have enjoyed the light atmosphere, had he not spent the last hour throwing up in one of the science lab sinks.

The sudden bout of nausea was a mystery to him. He ran through his bio stats in his head as he doubled over again, but could find no irregularities in his gastrointestinal function. As far as he knew, he was not ill. He had not, to his knowledge, consumed anything at odds with his normal diet. He was not hungover. Or poisoned.

But his stomach clenched again and he retched up the thin broth he'd had for breakfast that morning, his tongue burning at the taste. Disgusting. Wearily, he sat down on a nearby stool, massaging his temples. This experience was not _fascinating_, but bizarre. He was not enjoying it. Perhaps he should get more sleep? He had been resting quite frequently with Jim, but maybe it was not enough…

The nausea faded in another moment or so, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. He stood and rinsed the sink and his mouth, deciding that a short nap certainly would not harm him. In any case, a spell in his quarters would give him time to catch up on his scientific journals and perhaps review a few of the new members of his staff. Mind made up, the Vulcan gathered his tricorder and left the room, passing some of his scientific peers on the way out. They were early. He was illogically glad that they had not witnessed his weakness.

Once safely tucked up in Jim's bed, temperature altered to a suitable level, he took out his padd and located a few of the articles he'd been meaning to read. There was an interesting study of New Vulcan's native flora that he was particularly eager to examine. A breakthrough in botany could mean a revolution in the so-far rather unsuccessful attempts to plant Vulcan species. It would no doubt be riveting.

However, as he perused the first few paragraphs, Spock felt his eyelids growing heavy. On the second page, they finally closed and he could not find the will to open them again. Setting the padd aside, he blearily ordered the computer to notify him when it was thirty minutes to beta shift and went to sleep.

-aaa-

Kirk was in his command chair, and he felt better than he had all week. Admittedly, his ship still looked like he'd bought it from a tag sale, but it wasn't smoking anymore. He could live with that, for now. Really, he was just happy that they were getting somewhere. They'd spent a week puttering toward the starbase, but now that they had warp one, they could make it in another day. It was good to be fast again.

He ran a hand over the armrest of his chair and checked the time on the readout. It was almost 1600, the beginning of beta shift. He figured he'd stay on the bridge and keep things running smoothly, having spent the morning sweating down in engineering with Scotty. That had been his hands-on workload for the day.

"So then she started licking her lips and walking tovard me, and I decided that discretion vas better part of walor," said Chekov, crossing his arms.

"You should have gone for it," replied Sulu, leaning on his console. He reached over to pat Chekov's shoulder.

"She vas orange! And not like bad-tan orange, like fresh-squeezed orange juice orange. Plus, I am fairly certain zat she vas not all female."

"What's wrong with that?" Sulu had now leaned in pretty close to his young coworker, a teasing smile on his face. His hand was migrating to Chekov's other shoulder, drawing the youth into a conspiratorial huddle.

"Um…" Chekov blushed.

"Well, that's enough of that," said Uhura, on the verge of laughter. She stood up from her console, matching the computerized beep that let the bridge know it was shift-switching time. "I'm going to head down for a bite to eat. Who's joining me?"

The two boys got up, Chekov's ears still flame-red, and followed her into the turbolift. Ensign Lo at the science station waved them ahead of her with a smile, but she left to join them a few minutes later after she'd finished her work. Kirk sat back and greeted the beta crew as they filed in, ready to begin their hopefully unexciting shift.

Kirk realized after a moment that Spock was not among them, though he had assigned himself to beta shift earlier that morning. That _was _a little bit odd, but, as he considered the hours they'd been keeping recently, he decided it was possible the Vulcan had simply lost track of time. He decided to give him a few more minutes and didn't comment on his absence.

1620 rolled around, and then 1625. Kirk was beginning to get a little anxious. As far as he knew, Spock had never been late to a shift before. He considered asking the computer to locate his wayward Vulcan.

At 1630, he did so. "Computer, give me the location of Mr. Spock." All ears on the bridge perked up, ready for the answer.

"Mr. Spock is in turbolift A, approaching the-" The rest of the sentence was swallowed in the hiss of the turbolift doors. Spock stepped onto the bridge rather quickly and headed to stand beside Kirk's chair.

"Captain, I must apologize for my tardiness. Should you wish to discipline me, I will not object."

"Mr. Spock, glad you could join us." Kirk looked up at his science officer with a smile and took in his still-sleepy face. "Catching some Zs, were you?"

Spock blinked. "What?"

"Sleeping."

"No. I was simply conserving energy." Spock looked a bit uncomfortable. "I may have missed the alarm I set." Itself an alarming notion.

"That's all right Mr. Spock; just don't let it happen again." Kirk briefly brushed his lover's hand in reassurance and sent him off to his station.

Spock sleeping in? What was going on here?

After a few moments of thought, he decided to dismiss it as a fluke. Spock was just a bit tired. That was all.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two. Don't worry; there will be more adventure-plot in the next chapter. This one became primarily domestic-plot oriented. :) I'm on a roll!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

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It was early afternoon of the next day when the Enterprise finally limped in to dock at Starbase 8, and the crew was itching to get off the ship. Men and women were almost shoving each other to get to the transporters and shuttle hangars, driven mad with boredom. Kirk regretted having to shut down most of the electronic entertainment, but the engines came first. If the warp drive had gone out again, they would have needed all the excess power they could get for the impulse engines. Did he ever envy the ones whose only concerns were whether they missed their soaps…

"Morning, Administrator Stiles," he said, stepping down from the transporter pad and into the Starbase proper. "I appreciate you making room for the _Enterprise_. I know having four hundred people for shore leave without notice is a little… uncommon."

"Let's hope it stays that way," rumbled the beefy man, holding out a hand to shake Kirk's. "Lord knows we don't need any more Klingons in these parts, and I'd rather not patch up any more of the fleet's finest." He twitched his moustache in distaste.

"I couldn't agree more." Kirk sighed. "Can you point me to your chief of repairs? I want to get started on the work as soon as possible." Two minutes on solid ground and he was already yearning for the stars. Well, Mom had always said he belonged there.

"Sure thing. That'd be Storr, over there." He indicated the straight, unmistakable back of a Vulcan, visible through the crowd in a white jumpsuit. "He'll organize a plan of repair with your people. Very efficient."

"No doubt," replied the captain, thinking of his own efficient Vulcan. "Thanks very much!" With a short wave, he left Stiles and headed through the throng of his crew to meet the head of repairs. Storr turned to face him before he could even call out, his sharp ears picking up Jim's approach. He gave the captain a blank look.

"Captain Kirk." He flashed the salute with almost-insulting speed.

"Uh, hello." Kirk decided not to attempt a return gesture, knowing how bad his form was. "You're Storr, right?"

"Yes, I am Chief of Maintenance Storr. You require my assistance." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Can I possibly talk to you about the repair schedule for the _Enterprise?_ I want to be out of here in no more than a month." He was getting a bad feeling about this thin, hatchet-faced Vulcan. He didn't like him.

Storr shot a cursory glance at the ship, taking in the disruptor scars along the hull and the partly-crumpled left nacelle. "I estimate the repairs will take sixty-two days."

"Sixty-two… That's far too long. Let my chief engineer Mr. Scott take a look at it. He said he could do it in a month." Yeah, they were definitely not going to get along.

"Mr. Scott is apparently given to exaggeration or falsehood. Perhaps his pride drives him to make this conclusion?"

"Mr. Scott is an honest man," said Kirk, feeling the tug of anger at his captainly control. He stared, affronted, into Storr's oil-well eyes. "If he says he can do it in a month, he can."

"We shall see."

-aaa-

Spock was one of the last ones off the ship, having stayed behind to ensure that all lab equipment had been properly stowed and would not be subject to any disturbances that might be caused by the repairs. He hefted his bag, filled with a modest collection of personal effects, and strode down to the transporter room, intending to beam down and locate his lover. Locate _the captain._

"You gonna trust yourself to those machines after all the crap this ship had taken?"

Spock snapped himself out of his shallow meditation and turned to look at Bones, standing in the doorway. The doctor had apparently followed him in order to insult the transporters once again.

"Doctor, as always, the transporters are quite safe. Mr. Scott assured the Captain of their good function this morning."

"Scotty's always sayin' that. And then, before you know it, someone's ended up in a different dimension." McCoy crossed his arms and smirked slightly. 'Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, but I know I'm not."

Spock frowned in irritation. "Doctor, did you fail to observe the 367 crewmen and women who beamed to the Starbase earlier today? No casualties resulted, and reports indicate that not a single one landed elsewhere than their intended destination."

"That doesn't mean that it'll work another time."

Spock stared at him. "This conversation is illogical. The odds against such a selective malfunction are-"

"Are you familiar with the works of the eighteenth-century thinker David Hume?" asked Bones, snidely raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps the problems of inductive reasoning?" He was winning this one. Oh yes.

Spock tightened his grip on the handle of his bag. "Are you a doctor, or a philosopher, Leonard McCoy?" He stalked on to the transporter pad and commanded the computer to _energize._

-aaa-

"I'm tellin' ya, it cannae possibly take more than a few weeks t' fix 'er up, Cap'n. I know the old girl, and she'll pull through right enough." Scotty peered through the reinforced polymer porthole at his beloved ship and nodded to himself. "I got it all in my head, just what t' do for 'er."

"I disagree," said Storr, stony gaze matching his stony tone.

Kirk fought the urge to growl and rubbed at his eyes in exasperation. The two had been arguing over his ship for almost an hour. At this point he really didn't care how long the maintenance took, just as long as it got _started._ He wished Spock was with him. The science officer would be able to mediate the two estimates, he was sure, into something a little more workable. Not to mention, he was great at relieving the captain's stress…

"You are assuming that the necessary metals are available in the quantities you desire. That is not the case."

"Then you should see about getting' 'em, shouldn't you? I thought Starfleet _wanted_ th' _Enterprise_ back on duty."

"The ship _is_ necessary both to boost morale and explore uncharted territory. Your supposition is likely correct."

"Well, there y' have it. I say a month."

"Illogical. Sixty-two days."

Kirk turned away, muttering something unflattering about the Vulcan as he did so, and wandered back toward the interior of the receiving room. The transporter pads glowed softly to his right and a corridor ran off to the left with signs indicating the direction to different Starbase departments in most major Federation languages. He studied the moving walkway for a moment, lost in the soft _hummm_ of working machines.

Suddenly, a yellow flash lit up the room as one of the transporters received a pattern and started materializing a thin silhouette. Kirk walked over, recognizing the line of the shoulders immediately, even through the spinning light of the beam. As the technician on duty focused the reception, the shape became clearer and metamorphosed into a real being.

"Spock!" he exclaimed happily, once the Vulcan had completely solidified and every wisp of light had faded away, "I'm glad to see you."

"And I, you, Captain," murmured the Vulcan faintly. He blinked around him at the reception room, eyes curiously blank. When he stepped off the pad, he stumbled.

"Woah, Spock. Are you okay?" Kirk stepped up to take the Vulcan's hand, guiding him down safely. Through the contact Spock's warm skin he kept getting the confusing message of _dizzyDizzydizzy_… "Spock?"

"I am all right, _t'hy'la_." He straightened up and gently removed his hand.

"Are you sure? You've been a bit tired recently. Maybe you're coming down with something…" The thought concerned Kirk and he scrutinized his lover's pale face for any sign of distress.

"Stop coddling me. I am perfectly able to tell my own condition, Captain."

"…Right." Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Sure." He pulled his hands away in a 'suit yourself' gesture. "So… I'd like you to help me with something."

"I was going to inspect the laboratory facilities and continue my research on observed quasar-like phenomena."

"…" Kirk gave his first officer another once-over, his cheer at seeing him beginning to disappear again. "Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

"I have already answered that question," snapped Spock, taking half a step away from Kirk. "And I must now proceed with my reading." He half-turned away and took a few steps toward the corridor and the waiting science labs.

"Mr. Spock, I require your presence to help resolve an argument. For the good of my ship." He paused, waiting for Spock to come back. "_Now_." Reluctantly, the Vulcan returned to his side, his face schooled into the mask he wore when he was angry. Angry? Well Kirk wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows. "Is something the matter, _Mister?_"

"No Captain. What do you need?"

"Follow me." Kirk stalked back to meet the still-quarrelling engineers, his mood descending around him in a black cloud.

-aaa-

Spock sat carefully on the corner of his bed in the Starbase accommodations wing. The room had a feel that was halfway between barracks and a hotel, but the sparse surroundings didn't distress him. He was distressed because of his blatant emotional outburst, and the consequences it had bought him.

The room he was in was a single.

Before they had set in at the starbase, Jim had pulled him aside in the turbolift, stopping it between floors as he always did when he wanted to be alone during shift. He had pulled Spock close, lips ghosting along his jaw. They would get a double room, he said. He was a captain, and a celebrated one at that. They wouldn't have to deal with the usual elbows-and-knees situations. They could be comfortable.

Spock had been excited.

He wished Jim was with him now, though logically the man's absence was his own fault.

He had been shaken by his dizziness out of the transporter. Had the doctor been correct? He supposed that, however unlikely that occurrence was, it was still technically possible. But he had not suffered any other ill effects as he stepped down and met with his lover. And greeted him with an intense rush of anger and frustration. Illogical! His control had not faltered in so long…

Jim was now ensconced in his own captain-worthy room, alone in the double bed that should have been theirs. Spock felt a moment of despair… And then… there was moisture on his cheek… He stood up abruptly, examined his reflection almost desperately in the round mirror above the dresser. He was crying.

Perhaps something _was_ wrong with him. In fact, he was beginning to believe that something was desperately… off. Choking back a sob, he fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to still. As methodically as he could, considering the alien circumstances, he ran through his biological functions, examining the responses from each area of his body. As he worked his way down from his head, he calmed slightly, allowing him to focus…

There was an anomaly nested in his abdominal cavity. It was small, so small that he had missed it just the day before. Very small… but growing. Spock circled it with his mind, searching for its purpose. What was this dividing ball of cells? He considered it from every angle and arrived at an incredible solution. However he looked at it though, the points matched up to a straight line. And when one removed the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, had to be the truth.

Spock stopped crying and stared at the ceiling, hands falling from his face to lie still in his lap.

He was pregnant.

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	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry for the delay! I was getting an error message from the site for a while. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

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The night scene of Starbase 8 wasn't exactly _swinging_, but there was definitely enough going on to amuse the shore-starved crew of the _Enterprise._ One of the arms of the base contained a shopping strip; stalls selling various Federation-approved goods (or not) spilled down the corridor, lights flashing and music playing to attract the custom of their rare visitors. Interspersed between the shops were drinking establishments purveying the finest poisons.

It was here, in one of these bars, that Spock expected to find his lover. Whenever they fought, and they did so more often than he would prefer, Jim would escape to some run-down drinking hole and spend the night 'drowning his sorrows' with friends. Normally he would leave Jim to it, because a bar was not somewhere he usually decided to spend time.

However, that was exactly what he was planning to do. After pondering his bizarre situation for an hour, he had decided that the most logical course of action was to confide his new status to Jim. After another two hours attempting to suppress his emotional response to this decision, he was ready. Or as ready as he would ever be. Straightening his shirt, he stepped into the bustle of the strip and began to look for the father of his child.

Following the flow of people was the easiest way to get around and the least stressful. As the ever-moving stream surged down the hall, Spock kept a sharp eye out for Jim in the dark recesses. It may have been the darkness disguising his sight, but he didn't see Jim. It was _possible_, he supposed, that he had deduced incorrectly… But wait.

"Bones, why do you do this to yourself?"

The voice came from an out-of-the-way establishment called _Orion's Arrow_, and it was most certainly the voice of Jim Kirk.

"It's her birthday next week," came the reply. "I'm not going to be there. Again."

Spock stepped into the small entryway and made his way into the bar proper, keeping to the unpopulated edges of the room. It didn't take long for him to come upon a table shared by Jim and the doctor.

"Joanna's gonna be twelve, Jim. Twelve! What am I going to do when she starts looking at _boys?_" McCoy put his head in his hands.

"Probably get alcohol poisoning," said Jim, pulling away his friend's empty brandy glass and replacing it with one filled with water. "You shouldn't worry so much." He sighed and trailed a finger around the rim of his own drink. "From the sound of it, having kids is more trouble than it's worth."

Spock, who had been about to join them, froze.

"No, it's really not." Bones eyed his water distrustfully before shrugging and reluctantly taking a sip. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if her mother did turn out to be a… Haven't you ever wanted a rugrat or two hanging off your shirttails?"

Jim laughed. "Hell no. It's never even crossed my mind."

_Hell no._

Spock slid behind a partition and folded his hands carefully into a meditative form. His face stayed blank. He couldn't tell Jim. He would be rejected. It was a logical reaction. What man expected his _male_ lover to become pregnant? Certainly it was abnormal. Certainly it was undesirable. Spock willed his heart to stop beating so fast and backed away from the table. He turned slowly and walked out of the bar.

The two men, oblivious to what had transpired not five feet away from them, talked on.

"I don't believe you, Jim. You seem the type. Why don't you adopt or something?"

Kirk heaved a sigh and took a fortifying gulp of gin. "Aw, Bones, I'd be a terrible father. I'm useless when it comes to kids. You know it'd be too dangerous to keep 'em on the ship, but he only other choice is to be a Starfleet dad, gallivanting across the galaxy while Junior picks his nose in Iowa." He sighed again. "Sorry. Not helping you at all."

"This isn't about me right now." Bones placed a hand on the captain's shoulder. "It's about _you._ What do _you_ want? You should talk to Spock. Before you get too old."

"Yeah, Spock." Jim folded his arms on the table and a strange look flitted across his face, a mixture of regret, puzzlement, and residual anger.

Bones shook his head with a weary chuckle. "You two fighting again?"

"He started it." Kirk blinked and set his chin down on his arms. "Sorry. I mean, I basically just said hi to him and he almost bit my head off. It was really weird." He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. "Actually, I'm a bit worried. He might be coming down with something."

"Well, assuming he'll give me the time of day, I'll give him an exam tomorrow. He's overdue, anyway." Bones finished his water and tossed a credit marker onto the table. "I'm turning in. Don't do what I was going to. I don't want to worry about your liver on top of everything else you get into."

"I won't." Kirk waved him off. "I've got to oversee repairs. I need to be on top of my game."

Bones snorted. "Good luck with that." Apparently, the conflict between Scotty and Storr was already common knowledge.

"Pfft. Yeah. 'Night Bones."

"Good night."

Kirk stared into his glass and swirled the clear liquid, deciding that no, it really wasn't.

-aaa-

McCoy woke in the dark and made up his mind: he would never get used to morning in space. Without a sunrise, morning was just another hour you weren't sleeping, a dreary, florescence-lit way to pass the time. It was nothing like Georgia…

He made a derisive sound in his throat as he turned down another industrial hallway, heading for Spock's room. If Jim thought the Vulcan was sick, he had better take a look at him. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Spock at dinner the night before… Perhaps the transporter _had_ done something to him.

"Just what I need," murmured the doctor belligerently, stopping outside a featureless metal door, "more techno-problems." He checked the identification number on the wall just to be sure, but he was correct; this was Spock's room. Okay, great. He rapped on the metal, knowing that the Vulcan would be awake already. "Open up, Spock. It's time for your check-up."

After a moment, a muffled reply sounded through the door. "I do not require your attention at this time, Doctor." The voice was oddly strained, and McCoy frowned.

"You sure?"

There was no response. Bones punched his medical override into the keypad and entered the room. He took a second to adjust to the temperature difference and looked around for his patient. "Spock?"

There was a small noise from the adjacent bathroom before McCoy heard the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. He tightened his grip on his bag and hurried in.

"'Don't require my attention' my ass. What's wrong, Spock?"

The Vulcan peered up at him from where he was sitting calmly on the floor by the toilet, his hands linked in his lap. He looked pale, and tired, and he wasn't dressed yet. It seemed that nothing was wrong with his eyebrow, though, and it met his hairline delicately.

"Doctor, I am in no need of your expertise. I already know the identity of my ailment."

"And what's that?" McCoy crouched next to Spock and took out a scanner. He began to wave it in front of the Vulcan's face. It was giving him a rather peculiar reading…

Spock hesitated, and for a moment he looked vulnerable. McCoy softened a little.

"Look, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong. I'm not really recognizing this data. If you know what it is, you can tell me. I'm a doctor, not a gossipmonger." He made to lay a reassuring hand on Spock's arm, but thought better of it at the last moment. An awkward silence stretched.

Finally, Spock cleared his throat, a very _human_ thing to do, and spoke up. "I am pregnant." It obviously took an effort for him to say it, and he looked away.

"…What?" Bones shook his head as if to clear it. "That's impossible."

Spock shot him a glare. "You would do well to remember that Vulcans do not lie, Doctor. I have felt the child, and it is quite real."

"All right, Spock. Relax." Bones stood back up and leaned against the small bathroom counter. The most likely explanation for Spock's behavior was pseudocyesis, a false pregnancy. All of the symptoms of a real fertilization could occur, but there was no fetus. Although Bones had never heard of it occurring in a man before. "You said you felt the child? How?"

"I have detected the presence of a growing embryo in my abdominal cavity. There appears to be an organ similar to a womb surrounding it." Spock spoke quickly and matter-of-factly. "I am pregnant."

"But Spock, you're a _male Vulcan_. How could this happen? You weren't _born_ with a uterus."

"…There have been documented cases of a similar nature on Vulcan, when one partner of a homosexual relationship had conceived. In those cases, a uterus was grown under the influence of the 'mother's' hormones. I… believe that the Vulcan reproductive system developed this adaptation in response to the high death rate preceding the time of Enlightenment."

"This had happened before? Is it safe?" Bones studied Spock with a critical eye. "I've never heard of a Vulcan and a human conceiving naturally. I assume your conception was done with genetic engineering. Not that that makes it any less-"

"You are correct, Doctor. I will need hormonal injections to stabilize the womb, as soon as possible." He sighed suddenly, and rubbed a hand over his face. McCoy just managed to stop himself from staring. "I need your help. I am half human, which was apparently sufficient for the creation of an embryo, but I am… concerned about the child's development."

With a strong feeling that he was getting in over his head, McCoy said, "I'll do my best."

"Thank you." The relief emanating from Spock was almost palpable. Bones helped him up and followed him back into the bedroom.

"Have you told Jim yet?"

"…I will not be informing him of my condition." Spock folded his hand together to keep them from shaking. "I ask that you also refrain from telling him."

"Why? It's _his_ isn't it?" Of all the- This was the least sensible thing that Bones had heard all day!

"Of course!" Spock bridled and turned to face him. His face was still expressionless, but his tone had become much sharper.

"Well! I don't understand the problem."

"You do not have to. I merely ask that you do not divulge the information."

"I won't. But I think you're making a mistake."

"That is your prerogative." Spock strode to the bed and sat down. "I do not agree. Please leave me now. I will come to the Starbase's sickbay in an hour for the first injections." He lay down and, quite unsubtly, turned his back to the doctor.

McCoy cleared his throat but, failing to capture Spock's attention, had no choice but to leave the issue, and the Vulcan, alone.

* * *

:D Reviews make me happy. Also, if it seems like Spock is getting too emotional, just give a yell. ^^


	4. Chapter 4

I apologize for my delay in updating this and everything else. I'm back in school now, so I've got less time to party. :P Oh well. XD Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

* * *

Breakfast consisted of pancakes and Danishes. With no Spock to greet him in the morning, Kirk needed _something_ to improve his mood. He took a bite of a jelly donut and contemplated his plan for the day. If he was lucky, he could get work started on his ship. Then he… Well, maybe he shouldn't plan anything after that until he had finished. It would probably take a while.

"_You_ look happy."

Kirk glanced up to see Uhura taking the seat across from him. She was dressed in civilian clothes, jeans and a suede jacket. The colors set off her skintone well. Her face was vibrant under her dark hair. He made a noncommittal noise and took another bite.

"Don't worry. The _Enterprise_ will pull through." She started to peel her banana. "A bit of leave time won't do us any harm, either." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"I know that." Kirk brushed the powdered sugar off his hands. "I'm more concerned with the attack. Why were there Klingons in this quadrant? How did they get here? I have to make a report to Starfleet in twenty minutes. What am I supposed to tell them?"

Uhura frowned and thought. "I don't know. I would guess that they were here on some kind of raid. Are there any merchant vessels scheduled to be in the area?" She set down her fruit. "Then again, that Klingon captain, the one who hailed us? He seemed…"

"He seemed crazy, is vhat," interjected Chekov, sliding in beside Kirk. "Vhy you guys start eating vithout me?" He poured a cupful of granola into his yogurt. "Anyvay, zat Klingon vas obwiously off the deep end. He made moves zat are completely contrary to standard strategy of engagement."

"I agree," said Sulu, joining them. "I couldn't tell _where_ those ships were going to be! Usually, you get some idea, you know? Klingon battle strategy was required reading in almost every class I took at the Academy." He took his place across from Chekov. "_Itadakimasu_. Anyway, those ships were flying counter to many Klingon patterns."

Kirk considered this. "I'll be sure to put that in my report, and you be sure to put it in yours." What did this mean? Something bad, is what. "Spock, speculation."

There was a second of silence.

"Um, Keptin… Mr. Spock iz not here." Chekov looked around, just to make sure, but he didn't see the Vulcan. "Perhaps he iz still asleep?"

Kirk sighed. "Yeah, maybe." He finished his food and stood up. "I'm going to make that report. If you see Scotty, tell him to meet me in Conference Room 12 as soon as he's got a moment."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk left the table and headed for his quarters.

-aaa-

"If that's all then," said the imperious figure of Admiral Schmidt on the viewscreen before him.

"I'm afraid it is," replied Kirk, barely keeping his frustration in check. "I'll report back if the situation changes." He exchanged nods with the Admiral and just managed to keep the scowl off his face until the screen went dark.

_Really._ Starfleet could demand more information from him if they wanted, but it didn't mean he was going to be able to provide any. Kirk slouched down in his chair. Now he was going to have to look into this further, perhaps launch a full investigation despite the _Enterprise_ being an exploratory vessel. Starfleet had all but demanded him to. He did have to admit he was curious, though. And hey, maybe he could get some vengeance out of it.

…Nah.

"_Weeeee-oooo…_" The boson's whistle on his desk alerted him to an incoming message, and he hit the switch.

"Kirk here."

"This is Bones." The doctor sounded a little more irritable than normal.

"Is something wrong with Spock?" Kirk sat up, suddenly on edge.

"Nothing serious. I'm taking care of it."

Kirk sighed in relief. "Well, what is it? Can I help?" He wanted to get back into Spock's good graces. Maybe then he could find out what had gotten him _out_ of them…

"Doctor-patient confidentiality, Jim. But you can try talking to him. That _might_ work." McCoy was obviously ticked, which meant he was worried. Kirk felt the back of his neck prickle.

"Bones…"

"That's all I can say. Spock isn't in danger…" Bones sighed. "He'll be all right."

"You're beginning to worry me." Kirk tried to settle himself in his chair and dispel the bad feeling that was burgeoning in his gut. "Can't you tell me anything?"

"Sorry, Jim. Just try talking. It's helpful, communication. Anyway, I've got work to see to. McCoy out." The call cut off, leaving Kirk feeling just a little bit more helpless than he generally liked.

-aaa-

The Starbase had woken up since Kirk had left to make his report. No longer were the early risers clustered around the cereal bar in the cafeteria. Instead, they had flocked to the labs or the library or the viewscreens to fill their day. Kirk imagined the scientists booking lab time to continue their experiments, the younger crewmembers finding a rec room somewhere to spar or play games. Of course, engineering was busy, but he imagined they enjoyed what they were doing. He'd never seen Scotty happier then when he was working on the _Enterprise_.

"We've worked out a deal, Cap'n," said the Scotsman when he saw Kirk come into the conference room. Storr was absent, but then Kirk hadn't asked to see him. "Th' Vulcan's takin' th' interior systems and I'm takin' th' hull. O' course, I'll have to go through th' whole ship when he's done, just t' make sure he didn' do anything, but it'll work for now."

"If that works for you, it works for me. I'd just like to get started." Kirk shook his head, but he was pleased that the two had finally created a schedule. "Did you file a damage report?"

"Yes sir. It's all right there in th' computer. …It's not as bad as it looks," he added.

"How long?" Kirk asked the question ironically, not really expecting the answer to have changed. He was surprised.

"Well, it's gonna take a little longer than I first thought." Scotty seemed slightly put out by this. "About forty days, give or take a few for calibrations and the like."

The captain sighed. "Understood. I'll let you get back to it, then."

"Thank you sir. I'll make sure Storr doesn' mess anything up while he's at it." The chief engineer nodded to Kirk and exited the room, swinging a wrench in a jaunty fashion as he did so. Kirk followed him out, turning the lights off as he went, lost in thought.

He ran into Spock.

"Jim, are you all right?" The Vulcan steadied his captain briefly, but withdrew his hand before Jim could take it in his own. "You seem distracted."

"What about you?" Kirk studied Spock's face but couldn't detect any evidence of illness. Well, Bones had said he was okay, but… The Vulcan's eyes betrayed only curiosity. "You were a little… odd, yesterday." He spoke carefully, afraid to provoke another outburst.

"Yes, I regret my lack of control." Spock offered the kiss gesture to his lover in reconciliation, and Kirk accepted it readily. He pressed his fingertips to Spock's warmer ones and tried to will his concern away. The pleasant buzzing sensation at the joining comforted him in a way he didn't know he'd been missing.

"Why were you so upset?" Now that their equilibrium had been reestablished, Kirk began to walk. Spock fell in beside him as he always did, folding his arms behind his back in a wordless sign of respect.

"I was experiencing fluctuations in my hormone levels. I didn't realize in time, or I would have corrected the problem before it began." Spock's tone turned a bit flat at that, but his relaxed manner didn't change.

"Are you going to be okay now?"

"Yes."

"Good."

They walked in silence for a few moments before reaching the turbolift. "Computer Lab Seventeen," said Kirk, stepping into the lift. Spock followed him. "I need to do some research on Klingons. Care to join me?"

"Of course, Captain."

The lift doors closed behind them with a pneumatic hiss and the pull of gravity increased slightly as the room shot upwards on its way. Kirk let the quiet persist for a few moments before slyly reaching over and stopping the lift between floors. Spock raised an eyebrow, not in confusion, Kirk suspected, but in anticipation.

"I was worried about you," said the captain, moving closer to his lover. He gripped Spock's arms for a brief second before slipping his arms around Spock's waist and pulling them together. "Do you feel sick? Is that what that was about?"

"No, Jim. I feel well." Spock didn't exactly return the hug, but he pressed his lips to Kirk's cheek. The touch sparked a flash of _affectionMine_ between them. _T'hy'la_, said Spock's gentle caresses as he laced his fingers with Jim's.

"I want you to stay in my room," muttered Jim, burying his face in the crook of Spock's neck. He inhaled the cinnamon-like scent of the Vulcan's skin and fought down the temptation to lick it. "I have a double bed."

"That is fortunate," murmured Spock. He had placed his palms on Jim's chest now, and had backed him up to the wall of the turbolift.

"Mm," agreed the captain. He drew Spock into a deep kiss and ghosted his hands down Spock's hips. "I can't wait." His mind filled with images of Spock beneath him, Spock's dark eyes, his tongue… "Woah, woah. Nn." Jim gently pushed Spock away, his face betraying the reluctance he felt. "Duty first. Have to remember. _Duty first_."

"…Yes." Spock breathed for a moment to steady himself and then managed his usual transformation: sexy to stoic in about five seconds. "The Klingons must come first," he mused wryly.

Kirk cleared his throat and started the lift again. "Right. So, it's really rare for them to be in this part of space, and it's certainly a hazard to the fleet and the Federation. As we know." Spock nodded in assent. "I'm going to run a search to see if there have been any other attacks in this system and the ones nearby. I'd like you to check for merchant vessels and other possible targets."

"A practical idea, Captain." The lift hissed open and the two of them stepped out and made their way to the lab.

-aaa-

"This is ridiculous," breathed Kirk, scrolling through the readout before him. He frowned. "How is this not already in a huge report labeled 'Things Starfleet Captains Should Know'?"

"What have you discovered, Captain?" Spock leaned over from the adjacent chair and scanned his lover's screen, apparently not noticing or not caring that this brought them into quite a bit of arm-to-arm contact. "This is most distressing information."

The document Kirk had compiled detailed twenty Klingon attacks in the area in the past two years, a staggering amount for so far from the neutral zone. In a seemingly random array of locations, Klingon ships had challenged and destroyed, or been destroyed by, Federation ships when they shouldn't have been able to get that far into Federation space. It was extremely disconcerting,

Spock was silent for a moment, concentrating, before both of his eyebrows shot upward. "Jim, this is more serious than we first supposed. If I correlate this data with the searches I have done, a trend emerges."

"And what's that?" Kirk felt a sharp stab of dread in his stomach.

"The attacks were each staged on days when the passenger ship _Poseidon_ was in the area. That ship is registered to one Hester Davidson. She runs a transport service for foreign dignitaries, ambassadors, and occasionally royalty. Thankfully it seems the Klingons were waylaid by less eminent quarry before they could take the _Poseidon_, however, their intention seems clear."

"They're after someone on that ship." Kirk buried his face in his hands with an exasperated sigh, and Spock softly touched his arm. "God dammit.

"_Why didn't we know about this?"_

* * *

Dramatic cut is dramatic! o.o Yeah. So, the adventure-plot had been introduced. I hope to keep a fairly good balance between it and the domestic-plot as we go along. In other news, this fic just keeps getting longer and longer as I plan! You guys are going to be in for an epic (in Verg terms)!

Reviews are like food for starving writers like myself. Please don't let me go hungry. :D


	5. Chapter 5

Little bit shorter than usual this time, just because this is the end of a large-ish story section. You could say that part one of what has to happen has now happened. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

* * *

"As my first officer, Mr. Spock, has concluded, the attack pattern clearly indicates that the Klingons are after the _Poseidon_. _Twenty_ attacks in two years. That's shocking." Kirk stopped gesturing to the graph on the viewscreen behind him and gave Admiral Schmidt a look. "Why hasn't anything been done about this?"

The admiral looked like he was trying to keep his composure, but a faint mask of concern was beginning to descend onto his features. He cleared his throat. "I am not sure, Captain. Your analytical skills, and those of Mr. Spock, are to be commended. I see no reason why an invasion of this magnitude was ignored. Certainly, I was never informed of it. Allow me a moment to confer with Command." He disappeared from the conference room screen.

Kirk turned to trade glances with the rest of the room's occupants. He'd called in the bridge crew and Bones to let them know about the Klingons. And it just felt right to have them there when he notified someone who could do something about them. Made him feel like he was on the bridge again…

"What do you make of it?" he asked them. "It seems odd that Command wouldn't have done this research themselves."

"Indeed," said Spock, reexamining his graph with a critical eye.

"I think we should file a complaint," growled Bones. "A lot of property damage could have been avoided if they'd cleaned this up when it first began. Not to mention all those lost lives." Uhura nodded her agreement.

It was just then the screen turned back on, Schmidt's now-carefully neutral face taking up most of the picture.

"Sir?" Kirk spread his hands, as if to say 'we're waiting.'

"I'm afraid the matter is now being treated as… classified. You will no longer be authorized to discuss the attack on your vessel, or the previous attacks, outside of a secure Starfleet facility. I'm afraid I can't give you any more information." Schmidt did have the grace to look vaguely guilty, but he held up a hand to forestall any protests just the same.

"That's it? A pat on the head?"

"The matter is being seen to. Once the _Enterprise_ has been repaired, you will receive new orders from Command." Schmidt tried to lighten the mood with an uncomfortable shrug and a wry grin. "You know how it is. Don't worry about the Klingons, Kirk; you'll just give yourself an ulcer." With that, the transmission ended.

The conference room was wreathed in silence.

-aaa-

"God dammit. _Damn it!_" Kirk swept down the crowded hallway with a vengeance, shoving people aside with pure force of will. Spock trailed in his wake, expertly slipping around the confused pedestrians. He was trying to catch up with his lover. He was making good time, but… It was going to be close.

"Jim!" Spock reached out to him, just missing the captain's sleeve, as Kirk slammed into a green-skinned figure.

"Sorry," he muttered, turning sideways to let the Orion man pass. He shot a glance at his pursuer. "What, Spock?"

"You must calm down. I understand that you are frustrated, but you are acting in a manner that is hazardous to yourself and-"

"I want to know what's happening!" Kirk slammed a fist into the wall. Any passers-by that hadn't learned before now took several steps away from him. The hall was beginning to clear out. "From the very beginning we've been fucked by Starfleet, and now it's biting us in the ass when it's actually important." He heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm just…"

Spock pressed his fingertips to Kirk's lips. The gesture was startlingly intimate, and the irate captain lowered his hand from his eyes in surprise. He glanced around and found that they were alone.

"As of this moment, there is nothing we can do. Logically, we must let the matter rest." Spock stilled another outburst with a light kiss. "_Logically_, we must concentrate on… other pursuits."

Kirk deepened the kiss, just managing to capture the Vulcan's mouth before Spock pulled away. He slid a hand against Spock's chest and traced the sharp collarbone. "You really want to, don't you?" Usually the seducing happened the other way around.

Spock stilled. "If you are averse to the idea…"

"No, no. That's not what I meant." Kirk took Spock's hand in his own and tugged him down the passage toward his quarters. "I'm happy. _Let's_ concentrate on our 'other pursuits.' I need a bit of relaxation or I'll have a heart attack before I'm thirty. And then Bones will have one." He shook his head.

-aaa-

Once safely inside the bedroom, they made quick work of each other's clothes. It had been a while since they'd _slept_ together, much less dozed in the same bed. It simply wasn't as enjoyable on a narrow, regulation cot. Here, though, was a double bed. Heaven.

Spock pushed Kirk down, but the captain ended up on top. Their hands were everywhere, leaving snatches of _Love_ and _Need_. _T'hy'lamyT'hy'lamine_ said Spock's skin, as Kirk trailed his mouth over every inch. His hands were on Spock's shoulders, his sides, now his hips. He trailed his nose down Spock's body and tried to kiss Spock's bellybutton, but his mouth was intercepted by gentle fingers, long and pale, pulling him away and on to better things.

They didn't sleep much.

-aaa-

When Kirk woke up the next morning, scrubbing the grit out of his eyes, Spock was missing. His shirts still lay where they had been tossed the night before, but when Kirk blearily went through his bag, he found that one of his black undershirts was missing. He smiled. He liked it when Spock wore his stuff. It was cute.

After a brief shower and shave, the captain dressed in civilian wear and went to find Scotty. Spock was right when he said they couldn't do anything; his ship was shot to hell. The only way he was going to get back on the job was if she was fixed. So he decided he'd lend a hand. Engineering could certainly use another worker, and he was game.

Sure enough, the Scotsman was ecstatic to have his help. They got started after a quick breakfast of toast and tea.

-aaa-

Spock leaned against the counter and tried to choke down a glass of water after rinsing out his mouth. He was in his own quarters, not Jim's. Jim didn't need to know about this. He waited for the nausea to fade, as it always did, and then shuffled back into the bedroom. He lit a lemon-scented candle and began his morning meditation before he started his day.

-aaa-

The morning of freedom dawned brightly in everyone's minds.

"She's finally good, Cap'n. I wager she'll last you t' the end o' time, with all the reinforcement we gave 'er." Scotty beamed fondly at the _Enterprise_ through the porthole, as if he were gazing upon a beautiful woman, or maybe a daughter. He wiped a last spot of hydraulic fluid off onto his coveralls. "An' it only took fifty-three days."

"That'll do, Scotty." Kirk also surveyed his ship. She had been patched up, rebooted, and reinvented until she was spaceworthy again. He hadn't been so happy to have her when he became a captain! "Let's start beaming everyone over immediately. Where's that personnel list?"

Every member of the crew was overjoyed to be back aboard. Projects had continued in the Starbase's work spaces, but many of the departments simply had nothing to do. Sulu had spent most of the break trying to teach Chekov to fence. Chekov was brilliant at math. Terrible at fencing.

"It's good to be going back home," said Uhura as she passed Kirk on her way to the transporter pad.

"It certainly is, Lieutenant." He was glad she felt that way.

When there were only him, Spock, and Bones left, Kirk turned to the farewell party and gave a cocky grin. Administrator Stiles returned the smile. Storr did not. "Wish me luck," said Kirk as he shook hands with Stiles.

"Live long and prosper," added Spock, giving the two a proper Salute.

"Why am I going into space _again?_" grumbled McCoy, managing a half-hearted nod.

The three of them took their places on the pads and waited while the transporter technician got their patterns. Golden light swirled around them as they were broken down into parts and shot across the stars to the _Enterprise._

Kirk stepped down into his ship and gave Scotty an old-fashioned military salute, which the man returned. Spock came down to his left, Bones to his right.

"Let's go," said Kirk. And they did.

* * *

Reviews = Love.


	6. Chapter 6

Yes! New chapter. :D Oh. I apologize to everyone: I know I said that Spock would tell Jim at the end of this or next chapter, but, as usual, I was underestimating the length of my chapters. It's going to end up happening at the end of this arc, which will probabaly be four or five chapters long. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek! But I do own the Sahrtoreshhi.

* * *

"Captain, we are approaching Ariadne Majora." Spock looked up from his science station. "It is approximately two-thirds the mass of Earth and possesses a Class M atmosphere."

"Thank you, Spock. Standard orbit, Mr. Sulu." Kirk gazed at the small blue sphere on the screen before him, torn between his habitual excitement at visiting a new planet and a persistent feeling of annoyance. It had been three months since the _Enterprise_ was attacked and what had they been doing since then? Shore leave and sample collection. Busywork.

"Captain, I am not reading any humanoid life forms; however, the flora is abundant." Spock peered into the informative blue light at his console. "The climate appears to be similar to that of Earth's rainforests."

"Understood." Kirk got up from the command chair. "Let's go, Spock."

-aaa-

The landing party consisted of Kirk, Spock, and Bones, as well as a pretty young botanist and a security guard. They materialized in a hot, damp clearing amidst a forest of massive purple trees. All was still in the humid air, as if the world was weighted down by the oppressive heat. Spock swept his tricorder in an arc before him.

"No life forms in this area, Captain." He appeared unaffected by the climate and was soon striding ahead into the undergrowth.

"Would you get back here?" snapped McCoy, hurrying after him. He caught up with the Vulcan after a few moments and grabbed his sleeve. "Spock, you need to be careful. Heaven knows what could be lurking in these damn woods, and you've got more than yourself to worry about."

"I am aware of that, Doctor. Please lower your volume." Spock took out a pair of gloves and put them on before he started handling the leaves of a fleshy blue plant. Using a small knife, he cut some off and put them in a collection jar.

"You still haven't told him." McCoy stared at him. "Why the hell not? You can't hide it forever. You're starting to show."

"This is still my business, and I would appreciate it if you stop trying to interfere." Spock peered at him sharply, before turning to face the way they'd come. "Captain, I believe I have located the _Lycopersicon lycopersicum_."

"Great!" said the captain. He led Lieutenant Deerson, the botanist, and Traper, the security man, over to the Vulcan's side. "All right. Start taking samples. I'm going to scout ahead to see what's going on." He pushed aside a clump of foliage and followed a clear swath in the forest – almost a path – a few yards ahead. He had his phaser out, but honestly wasn't too worried. This was supposed to be an uninhabited planet.

Spock stayed in the clearing, helping Deerson to unwind a promising-looking vine from a small tree. The air was calm and it was silent except for a few bird calls, or something similar. Very peaceful. Very quiet…

A shout broke the stillness. Spock dropped what he was doing, able to recognize the captain's voice immediately, and joined McCoy and the others as they ran toward the man ahead.

"Jim!" The away team burst out of the forest, emerging into a wide clearing. Startled, McCoy and Deerson took a look around. Spock went immediately to the captain's side, flanked by Traper. On the other side of a clearing was a party of men, orange-skinned with, for the most part, long white hair. One of them, a tall, bearded figure, stepped forward.

"_Ttsu-mesha!_" he shouted, striking the ground before him with an ornamental staff. The small skulls tied to the top rattled forbiddingly. "_Vah-lesh. Echt mir losttah vengerrrr_!" He pronounced each word sharply, as if spitting them, glaring at them with pupil-less blue eyes. Four of them.

The away team was… _stunned_. Spock broke the tension.

"Captain, I believe a universal translator would be useful," he said, removing one from his person.

"You brought a translator to an uninhabited planet?" asked McCoy dryly.

"It is a good thing I did." Spock pushed a few buttons and the device began to emit a faint light.

"_Varrrkesht, vah-lesh, Sor-_trangers!" The leader shook his staff at them. "I say again, tell me your names!"

Kirk quickly held up his hands in a gesture of peace, though he didn't put his phaser away. "Greetings! I am Captain James. T. Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. We come in peace." He carefully lowered his hands. "We didn't know that this planet was inhabited. We simply came to collect plant samples." When the alien didn't respond, Kirk continued. "Who are you? And who are your people?"

After a moment of conferring with his followers, the tall man turned back to face Kirk. "I am Fehl-Garash, of the Sahrtoreshh. I am their _vresh-kahrrrr_." The translator spent a moment computing before it defined the word as 'vice-president.' "Who are your people?"

"We're humans," said Kirk, indicating the majority of his companions. "And Mr. Spock is a Vulcan."

"Different races," mused Fehl-Garash. "Does the Vulcan serve you?"

"He is my second-in-command," said Kirk quickly, "the… _vresh-kahrrrr_ of the _Enterprise_. But he is my equal. Humans and Vulcans are partners in the United Federation of Planets."

"Ah, the Federation!" Fehl-Garash blinked his eyes in a rapid series that was incomprehensible to the away team, but nonetheless meant something to his followers. They started whispering excitedly amongst themselves. "We have heard of you. We hold your efforts in high esteem."

"Oh, you know about us?" Kirk traded a bemused look with Spock. "I can't say we've had the same honor."

"You are a respected organization in my settlement," proclaimed the Sahrtoreshhi leader. "Please return with me and we will grace you with a _gressh-kahrrrrtin_." The translator suggested 'festival.'

"Thank you," said Kirk. "Allow me a few moments to consult my people." He and the others walked a few meters away. "Well, what do you think, Spock?"

"I am unsure how our sensors missed their signatures. However, they seem genuinely interested in the Federation. A shared meal with the Sahrtoreshh could prove… fascinating." Spock resisted the urge to shoot a look in the aliens' direction, but his mind was buzzing with the possibility of new knowledge.

"Did you see the _skulls?"_ asked McCoy. "I think this is too easy. I'm not getting a good feeling about this at all."

"Feeling, Doctor? How subjective."

"Easy," said Kirk, stopping the argument before it could begin. "Traper, what about you?"

"We have phasers, Captain, and so far they haven't displayed any of their own weapons." And that was true; none of the Sahrtoreshh had so much as brandished a spear at them. "I think we should go for it."

"And you, Lieutenant?" Kirk turned to the youngest member of their party. She nodded enthusiastically. "All right, we're settled." The group went back to join the aliens. "Well, Fehl-Garash, I believe we'd love to attend the _gressh-kahrrrrtin_."

"Excellent!" The Sahrtoreshhi seemed sincerely pleased. "Please, come with me." He led the away party down another path, out of the clearing and into the forest again. None of the crew bothered to contact the _Enterprise_, but it wouldn't have mattered if they had.

None of their communicators were functional, anyway.

-aaa-

It was evening by the time the group reached the Sahrtoreshhi settlement, but the valley was well-lit by torches. Here and there they'd catch a glimpse of a brighter light, like a bulb, or some other technology that should have been well beyond the means of the simple wooden settlement, but such flashes were so few and far between that nothing could be proved. In any case, the village was bursting with people and nothing could be done to investigate. The press of bodies was chaotic enough that they had to worry about staying together, much less going off on their own.

Fehl-Garash had dispatched a few of his men to run ahead and organize the _gressh-kahrrrrtin_, so the table was already set up by the time the away team and their escort arrived in the ceremonial hall. Cushioned mats had been laid around the stone slab and plates that looked like bamboo trays had been set at each place. An artful arrangement of pink and orange flowers graced the center of the table.

"Be seated, friends," said Fehl-Garash, taking his own place at the head of the table. He gestured for Kirk to join him at his right and let the others sit where they chose. Spock sat beside the captain, letting his fingers ghost over Kirk's in secrecy under the slab. The captain smiled slightly and returned the gesture before folding his hands before him.

"A glorious meal has been prepared for you," said the Sahrtoreshhi _vresh-kahrrrr_. I hope everything will be to your satisfaction." He clapped his hands and a light-skinned woman came out of a door to the rear of the chamber, her arms full of a large platter with a tureen on top. It steamed invitingly as she brought it to the table. "This is _kuuuq_, a soup, an… appetizer. It is made with the meat of _sor-kahk_." The translator informed them that this could mean either 'various birds' or a 'pig-like mammal.'

Spock held up a hand when the woman tried to give him a bowl. "I am a vegetarian, ma'am. It is a part of my culture that I do not consume the meat of animals." He looked to Fehl-Garash.

"That is not a problem, Mr. Spock. I apologize for the offense." He snapped his fingers at the waitress. "Merk! Make a batch of _strehk_ for our guest."

"Much obliged." The Vulcan nodded his thanks.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience," said the _vresh-kahrrrr_ sincerely. "It is our policy to treat every guest as if they were family. And we are ecstatic to have representatives from the Federation in our midst." He picked up his bowl of _kuuuq_ and took a hearty swig. McCoy, who had been examining his own food skeptically, shrugged and took a tentative sip.

"Tastes okay," he pronounced before taking a gulp. The meal having been declared medically sound, the other humans began to tuck in.

"Mr. Garash," said Spock, "…is it proper to address you as such?" He received an affirmative wave. "Mr. Garash, I am curious as to how you know about the United Federation when we have never heard of you. It seems that your society is, quite frankly, years or decades away from space travel."

Fehl-Garash laughed. "Indeed, Mr. Spock, indeed. But let's not talk business over our meal." The tall alien clapped again and another course was brought out, including a plate of what looked like baked peppers for Spock. "There is time for that later. You are welcome for as long as you wish to stay."

The Vulcan shot a surprised glance at Kirk. Surely his captain would insist on gaining this information as soon as possible? The matter was a delicate one, and one of interplanetary politics. Perhaps even Federation security. But Kirk just grinned at him.

"Lighten up, Spock! Try the food." He bit into a sausage-like dish and hummed appreciatively. "Garash is right. We can talk later."

"Yes, yes. We will have a meeting about these things after the dancing."

"Dancing!" exclaimed McCoy, eyeing Lieutenant Deerson in a friendly manner. "Have I ever told you I'm a killer when it comes to ballroom?" She giggled and blushed slightly.

"None of you are concerned?" asked Spock, raising an eyebrow. He was confused. "Jim?" But the captain was busy consuming a hunk of bread. Spock looked around the table. All of his companions were busy eating.

"Try some," said Garash, his blue eyes glinting in the torchlight. "I am sure you will find it to your liking."

There was no _logical_ reason to refuse the food, just a feeling. A bad feeling. Spock hesitated, but he pushed his plate very slightly away.

"I apologize, but it seems my appetite is… not what I thought."

"What a shame," said Fehl-Garash, standing up. His body blocked out most of the torchlight and the room darkened. "And things were going so _well._"

Spock flinched as a sharp blow hit him from behind. Before he could react properly, he had been shoved down on the table, his arms pinned beside him. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was his captain laughing himself into unconsciousness beside him.

* * *

Dun dun DUN! Whatever will they do? I know what you can do, though. Review! :D


	7. Chapter 7

I don't suppose I need to say anything, considering you've all read up to this point, but there is a strong language advisory for this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek! But I do own the Sahrtoreshhi.

* * *

"Still no word from the captain, Mr. Scott." Uhura turned around in her chair to face the Chief Engineer. She tapped the arm of her chair. "Should I try again?"

"Go ahead, lassie." Scotty studied the blue planet on the screen with a frown. It was hours past the last check-in deadline, and they'd received no word from any of the away team. Not even a squawk of static. "It's gettin' t' the' point when we should send another team down…"

"Ve vill go!" cried Chekov, ready to spring from his seat. Sulu, sitting next to him at his station, nodded, a grim look on his face.

"I don't think so." Scotty folded his arms. "D'you want th' whole bridge in danger? I'll arrange a security team."

-aaa-

Kirk groaned. It was the best he could do. He felt like he'd been hit in the head with a brick a few times and then kicked in the chest. It ached every time he took a breath. Cautiously, he tried his limbs and was relieved when they seemed to work properly. He sat up. And blinked.

He was in a jail cell of some kind. Metal bars on one side, concrete on the other three. There was a bench on one wall and a bucket in the corner. Charming. He got up slowly and checked himself over. There didn't seem to be any external injuries, but he'd been robbed of his captain's shirt, his phaser, and his boots. Fuck. He walked over to the bars.

"Hello?"

"Jim, you're awake." Bones was in a cell across the way, sitting on the bench. Spock was draped across his lap, obviously insensible. "How do you feel?"

"Forget about me. What about Spock?" Kirk felt a cold hand grip his heart. The Vulcan looked so pale… _"T'hy'la?"_

"He's just asleep. I gather he didn't eat any of the poison, so they hit him on the head." Seeing the look on Kirk's face he was quick to add, "It's all right. I don't think there's any permanent damage. He's just a little rattled." He hoped. He wished they hadn't taken away his medical tricorder. He wanted to check on the baby.

But as if to prove his point, Spock began to stir, shifting slightly, eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids. In a moment or two, he had opened his eyes and blinked blearily up at the doctor.

"Spock!" cried Jim, gripping the bars of his cell. He hadn't thought to check if they were electrocuted or otherwise reinforced, but luckily nothing bad happened.

"J-jim." The Vulcan sat up, assisted by McCoy. He looked around. "I see… we have been captured. Your feeling was correct, Doctor."

"Lot of good that does us now," mumbled McCoy.

"Where are the others?" asked Spock, seeming to regain his faculties. "The lieutenant and Mr. Traper?" He placed a hand on his belly reflexively, as if checking for damage.

"We're over here," said Deerson from down the hall. Kirk could make out her frightened face in the gloom of the one torch. "We aren't hurt, but all of the samples are gone."

"So are our weapons," growled Traper. He came into view behind her. "This is a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into."

Kirk sighed, but he was just as angry as the redshirt. "I _hope_ this is just a misunderstanding. But don't worry. We'll get out of here. Spock, we might have to fight our way out. Can I count on you to use lethal force if necessary?" The question wasn't a matter of trust – they trusted each other implicitly – but Kirk knew that the Vulcan hated violence.

"Of course, Captain."

"I don't think so," said McCoy, placing a hand on Spock's shoulder. "It's my medical opinion that Spock should sit this one out." He ignored a warning look from the science officer.

Kirk stopped pacing, surprise flitting across his features. "I thought you said the blow didn't cause any damage?"

"I said none that was _permanent._ Who knows what kind of side effects it could have?" He glared at Spock, who had the grace to look abashed. "Anyway, it isn't just that. Once – _if_ – we get back to the ship, you and Spock are going to sit down and have a nice talk regarding him and away missions."

"Doctor!" Spock wrenched away from McCoy's hand, livid for an instant before his face became blank again.

"Spock?" Kirk frowned.

"My, my." A deep voice greeted them from the entrance to the prison. "We're all awake, I see." Fehl-Garash stepped into the circle of torchlight looking menacing. He had pulled his hair up into a complicated topknot and traded his simple tan robe for one that was blood red. On either side of him stood guards, their muscled arms bulging strangely in the flickering light. "It's such a pain to interrogate them when they're unconscious."

"Garash," hissed Kirk. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You'll find out soon enough, little captain." Garash spun the universal translator around his fingers like a baton as he regarded the captives with hooded eyes. He blinked a command to his men and they came forward with spears, roughly dragging Kirk and Spock to stand out in the hallway.

"Who are you really?" Kirk struggled against the man holding his wrists back, but it was no use. He might as well have been battling a Vulcan. Garash took a few steps closer, tilting his head this way and that to see Kirk from many different angles. Then he reached out to run a finger down Spock's jaw. Spock flinched, and Kirk's desperation to be free grew exponentially.

"I think I like this one," murmured the Sahrtoreshhi, placing his index finger lightly against Spock's lips. He drew it back as Spock's teeth came quite a bit closer. "What do you think, Torrrr? He could go for as much as 50,000."

"What do you mean?" growled Kirk, straining at his meaty bonds. Garash didn't give him the time of day.

"I hope he passes the test." The tall alien stepped forward and grabbed Spock's chin, leaning in to kiss him forcefully. Kirk saw a blue tongue slip out and into Spock's mouth and the Vulcan struggled against the invasion.

"You son of a bitch!" shouted the captain, ripping away from his guard. He planted a punch under Garash's chin that sent the man flying before he was wrestled back under control. "You touch him again and I'll kill you."

"Touchy, touchy." Garash spat out a gob of purplish blood before coming closer again. He rubbed his chin. "Maybe you have something to protect, here, hmmm? Maybe there's something here." He cupped Spock's face, all the time sneering at Kirk. "Eh, loverboy?"

Without warning, Garash jabbed Kirk in the side, his knuckles digging in viciously. Kirk sagged, but never took his eyes off the man. Garash nailed him with an elbow to the head and a knee to the groin. Kirk groaned.

"Jim!" cried Bones, running to the door of his cell. Deerson and Traper were also on their feet, one alarmed, the other pissed.

"How do you like that, captain?" breathed Garash. "Don't worry; we'll fix you up before we sell you. With that spirit of yours, you'll go for a lot. Maybe twice as much as Mr. Spock." He leered.

"Do not hurt my captain in such a way," said Spock quietly, his eyes blazing.

"Another rebel, eh?" Garash spun slowly to look at Spock and his sleazy smile dropped away. He slapped Spock across the face. The sound was still ringing as he kicked Spock's legs out from under him. At the sudden weight, Spock's guard let go and Spock rolled to the floor, automatically curling up in the fetal position. Garash aimed another blow at his back.

"Stop!" shouted McCoy, shoving frantically at the locked door of his cell. "You'll kill them!"

"There's always more to replace him," snarled the alien, and he kicked Spock again.

-aaa-

"Mr. Scott! We've finally got a signal on their position," shouted Chekov, seated at the science station. "I'm sending coordinates to the transporter room."

"Good work, lad! Uhura, summon a medical team immediately. We don't know what condition they'll be in when they get here." Scotty gripped the arms of the command chair. He hoped nothing awful had happened. He hoped it was just a communicator malfunction. He hoped.

But he knew better. Things just didn't work that way on the _Enterprise._

-aaa-

Spock tried to squeeze even tighter, wrapped around his precious child to shield him from the sharp toe of Garash's boot. He carefully tested the mindmeld link that kept him tied to the fetus and was relieved to find it still strong. _Sa-fu…Son. We are together still._ He received a tentative feeling back: the beating of a tiny heart. He tried to keep his own heart from going out of control as another spike of pain shot through his shoulder.

-aaa-

Kirk writhed against his stronger captor, a primal roar filling his soul as he watched Spock trembling on the floor. He couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. Spock was in danger! His _t'hy'la_ was hurt! He threw off the alien holding him down and scrambled across the floor to protect Spock with his body.

-aaa-

McCoy lunged against the bars again, calling to Traper to do something, anything. The baby was going to die. His palms were slick with sweat and he could barely breathe.

-aaa-

Golden swirls of light enveloped the two lying on the ground. The two in the cell beside his were next. And finally he felt the familiar pull of the transporter beam as it took him apart, piece by sorry piece. The last thing McCoy saw was Fehl-Garash shrieking obscenities as his targets were ripped away. Then he was gone, too.

-aaa-

Sound crashed back in around him as Kirk landed hard on the pad of the transporter, rolling a few feet before he could get his bearings. People were swarming around him, trying to get… Trying to get to Spock. _Spock._

"_T'hy'la!"_ cried Kirk, trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet. He settled on crawling toward his prone lover, but there were too many people in his way. People in medical blues. They had taken Spock and put him on a stretcher and were ready to take him away. "No no no… That didn't happen." Kirk reached for his love, but he was shoved aside by an anxious-looking nurse as she guided the stretcher out of the room at a frantic pace. "Spock…"

"Get up, Jim," growled Bones, appearing from nowhere to haul him to his feet. "Keep it together. We're going to sickbay now, but don't run. You're hurt, too."

"I don't care", mumbled the captain, trying to pull away. But he let Bones lead him out the door at a walking pace.

"Listen, Jim. I'm gonna make the report for this one, all right? But you need to contact Starfleet after you see Spock. Are you listening?" He was talking like Kirk was a child. Kirk nodded his head.

"Yeah, Bones. Yeah, sure."

They got into the turbolift after an eternity and took it down to medical. When they arrived, the floor was bustling with personnel. Kirk noted absently that Deerson and Traper were there. She was weeping. Where was Spock?

Bones pulled him by the arm over to a biobed that was secluded from most of the chaos. Under the orange cover lay Spock, stripped and reclothed with a light-blue sickbay gown. His eyes were closed. Kirk ran to the bedside and took Spock's hand in his own. He was comforted to feel a brief buzz when their fingers kissed, but it didn't last for long.

Bones was busy examining the readings around the bed, checking this vital sign, lowering that concentration. Kirk swallowed nervously and looked up at the bio-meter above the bed. Spock's stats looked within normal range, which was a good sign, but… there was something wrong.

"His heart," said Kirk. "Something's bad about his heart." He almost despaired as he moved closer to the monitor, taking in the irregular pulses. "Bones, you have to fix it."

The doctor rushed over and took a look, but he just sighed.

"What?" Instantly, Kirk was on edge. "You can't do anything? _Bones!"_

"There's nothing wrong, Jim." He took Kirk's shoulders and pressed him gently down into the chair by the side of Spock's biobed. "You're just seeing two heartbeats, that's all."

Kirk stared at him. "T-two? What is it? A parasite?" He squeezed Spock's delicate fingers.

"Nope." Bones sighed again and leaned against the wall.

"No. It's not." Kirk frowned at him. "Then what?" No answer was forthcoming. He stood. "What? Come to think of it, you said before that Gar- that that motherfucker was killing _them._ Plural."

Bones nodded wearily.

"What, Bones? I want to know what's going on." He took a step closer, leaving Spock's hand resting on the counterpane. "And I want to know _right now."_

* * *

This chapter was kind of intense, wasn't it? ^^; Reviews make me happy!


	8. Chapter 8

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! :DD I just hope everyone's still in character. ^^;

I'd also like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. You really know how to make a person feel appreciated! This is my longest ST fanfiction so far (And my longest _fanfiction_ if you don't count collabs) and it's the first story I've ever written to break 100 reviews. So thank you very much for the support! I hope you will continue to read and enjoy Heatsink until the end. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

* * *

"Give me some answers, Bones. What's wrong with Spock?" Kirk moved away from the biobed, pacing back and forth with his eyes focused somewhere inside himself. He limped slightly, his side still erupting in little flashes of just-this-side-of-hell pain.

"He doesn't want me to tell you," admitted McCoy in an unhappy monotone.

"I _order_ you to tell me," snapped Kirk.

"Jim, you know I can't do that." The doctor had backed away from his incensed captain and made a show of organizing a stack of readouts on a table by the wall.

"God _damn it_, Bones! Are you my friend or aren't you?" He seized a handful of McCoy's shirt and slammed him against the wall.

"_Jim!"_ The startled exclamation had come from the biobed, and the captain whipped around to find Spock staring at him, wide-eyed. "_What are you doing?_"

"Spock." Jim released Bones' tunic and strode over, taking up Spock's hands in his own. Confusion sparked in little patches where their skin touched, and Spock warily gazed at Kirk's face. "Are you all right?"

"I… believe so." Spock blinked at Kirk's obvious anger. _"T'hy'la?"_ Jim's grip on his fingers was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Good. Now tell me why you have two heartbeats," the captain demanded.

"I…" Was this the feeling of the world spinning away? Spock could hardly catch his breath. He'd been trying so hard. _So hard._

"Take it easy, Jim," said Bones, concerned about Spock's welfare. The Vulcan had begun to look rather lost.

"Tell me."

Spock shook his head slowly, then pulled his hands away from his lover. Regaining some of his composure, he gave Kirk a cool look. "My condition is not a danger to you." _Just to our relationship_, whispered a little corner of his mind. He squashed it.

Suddenly all the fight went out of Kirk. He sighed. "Spock… I'm worried about you. I just want to know how to help. Please."

"Jim…" Spock swallowed nervously. "Do not be concerned. I… I am…" He hesitated. "_K'kan_." He glanced away, his hands coming to rest on his stomach with care.

"_K… K'kan…?_" Kirk shot a look at Bones, then turned to look at Spock again. "I don't know what that means." But then he realized he did. He looked at Spock's white fingers, laced together over his abdomen and his mouth fell open. "Spock. Are you… _pregnant?"_

"Yes, he is," said McCoy when Spock didn't answer. "He's about three months along."

"Three _months?_" Kirk looked between his silent lover and his best friend, at a loss. "Wait. How is this even-"

"It is an adaptive function of Vulcan biology," murmured Spock. He was studying the wall, suddenly gone tense.

"Okay. Yeah." Kirk sat back down on the end of the biobed and ended up rubbing Spock's leg comfortingly. "So. You're pregnant. _Three months_ pregnant." Kirk sighed. "All right. Works for me."

Spock blinked at him. "What?"

"Well it's not like we can change it."

"That is… true." Spock began to relax a little bit.

"One question, though," said Kirk, rubbing a hand wearily over his face.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me? Some time before you were _three months pregnant." _He regarded Spock with a flat stare, a hint of his anger coming back. "All that time I was worrying about you, and you said you were fine. And-" something dawned on him "And now you're going on _away parties?_ What are you, stupid?"

Spock bristled. "I did not feel it best that you should be entrusted with the information."

"You didn't, huh?" Kirk rose from the bed again. "Why _the hell_ not?" He threw back the covers viciously, exposing Spock's legs and the slight baby bump that was visible under the blue robe. "That's my child, too. Mine." He took a deep breath. "And you didn't _feel_ like telling me."

"Jim!" snapped Bones, reaching for the coverlet. Spock was, for a moment, speechless. "Get a hold of yourself!"

But then Spock pushed away McCoy and got to his feet. He strode to stand almost too close to Kirk, using his height to his advantage. "That's right. I didn't." He swallowed. Kirk had seen that expression before, just before he'd been strangled on the bridge, years ago.

"Why. Not?" Kirk glared up at the Vulcan. Inside his heart sped at a rate that was definitely unhealthy, but he couldn't do anything about that. It felt like the rug had been ripped out from under him and he was still falling. The trust. Where was the trust? Over something _this important_. He felt a flutter in his stomach, miniscule. _I'm a father_. His hands clenched into fists at his side. Who had the right to keep that from him?

Spock took a deep breath, obviously trying to regain a modicum of control. "I was…"

"_What?"_

"I was afraid!" Spock choked on the word, but there it was, lying between them. "Are you satisfied? I was afraid that if I told you… you would order me to have – or perform – an abortion. On our child. No."

"Spock!" Jim grabbed Spock's arms and pulled him roughly into an embrace. "Spock, I would never… Why did you say that?" He rubbed Spock's back, felt the muscles tense up under his touch before the stress began to leak away. _"T'hy'la_, I would _never_ do that."

"Then I heard you wrong."

"What?" Kirk pulled away to look at Spock's face, but his expression was already back in its usual unemotional mask.

"You were speaking with Doctor McCoy. I heard you say that you did not want to have children. That you had never thought about it, and when you were asked, you said 'hell no.'"

Kirk thought. Had he, in fact, said that?

"It was while we were at the Starbase," said McCoy. "It was Joanna's birthday. You remember that? We were in that Orion bar." He had turned away from the highly emotional scene and was fiddling with a tricorder, pretending not to be involved. He wished he could give them their alone time, but it simply wasn't possible. Both of them were still injured, and he had to protect Spock and the baby. Even if it meant banishing his captain from sickbay.

Thankfully, it seemed like they were both winding down.

"Oh yeah." Jim's fingers slipped off of Spock's arms as he remembered. "I did."

"You have changed your mind?" Spock was standing quite still, avoiding Kirk's gaze.

"Yes, of course. Of course." Jim shook himself, seemed to shake away the anger and the frustration and the pain. What remained was a dawning sense of joy. He was going to be a dad! And a creeping sense of insecurity. He wasn't really ready for this… "You should sit down, Spock."

"…Yes." The Vulcan returned to the biobed, much to McCoy's relief, and pulled the covers back up. Jim sank wearily into the chair by the bed.

"So," said Kirk, after a moment of resting silence. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," replied Spock, closing his eyes. Once again, his hands were clasped around his midriff. He didn't move when Kirk's hands joined them there. _Sorry_ and _I love you_ came through the touch. From both of them.

"That is so cool…"

"Right," said Bones. "I need to give Spock some shots, and then he's going to sleep. I'm sure you can find something else to do, like checking in with Nurse Chapel. She'll fix up your side."

"Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea," said Kirk, even though he loathed the idea of leaving Spock. "I'll go in a minute."

"Just as long as you go," growled McCoy, giving him a _look._

"I will, I will!" Kirk looked down at Spock and took his hand. From now on, everything was new. Everything was different. He smiled. And he could have sworn Spock did, too.

He was about to go to Chapel – Spock had fallen asleep – when the wall comm buzzed. He slapped it on. "Kirk here."

"Oh, good. You're all right." Uhura sounded relieved. "I think you should come to the bridge, Captain."

"I'll be right up."

-aaa-

He strode into the room like he wasn't in pain and took the command chair with his usual captainly grace. "Status report."

"Ve hawe picked up a magnetic signature that is similar to that of a small wessel, Keptin," reported Chekov from the science station. "Coming from the direction of Ariadne Majora."

"The Sahrtoreshhi shouldn't have space travel yet," said Kirk, leaning forward. "Can we get a visual?"

"Working on it, Captain." After a few minutes, Sulu brought up an image on the screen, magnifying it until it was recognizable.

"That's… an Orion ship!" said Kirk. "What are they doing out here?" No one gave him a satisfactory answer. "Lieutenant Uhura, I'd like you to contact that ship."

"Yes sir." She began trying the channels. "It's no use. They aren't responding to any of my hails."

"Keep trying." Kirk put the Enterprise on yellow alert. "Follow that ship, Mr. Sulu. There may have been a compromise of the Prime Directive."

"On it, sir." Sulu prepared to punch in the course.

"Wait!" said Uhura. "I'm receiving a message."

"From the Orion vessel?" asked Kirk.

"No, sir. You had better hear this." She put the transmission onto the bridge speakers.

"_Kzzt – This is Captain Hester Davidson of the S.S. _Poseidon_. We are under attack. I repeat – kzzt –under attack by Klingon vessels. Requesting aid from Starfleet. Requesting aid… - kzzt." _

Kirk traded a look with Uhura.

"This is Captain James Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise._ _Poseidon_, what is your position?" A string of coordinates came through Sulu's station and he nodded to the captain.

"We'll be right there."

* * *

Reviews are love! :DD


	9. Chapter 9

Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah. Uh, sorry for the incredibly long wait, guys! :D I've been very distracted and enmeshed in other fandoms for a while. Updating will not be regular, as you know. But do not fear! This and my other ST stories will be completed eventually. Please forgive me my lack of fight-scene-writing ability!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

* * *

The sky was filled with ships when the _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp. The small, bullet-shaped S.S. _Poseidon_ hung in the air between three Klingon warbirds. As the crew of the _Enterprise_ watched, she pivoted and spun, trying to elude her pursuers, but to no avail. The nearest warbird moved in, circling closer and closer to the transport ship.

"Fire main phasers," barked Kirk, sitting forward in his chair.

"Aye sir," responded Sulu, targeting the enemy vessel. "Firing main phasers." He let loose a volley of energy that knocked the warbird out of its chase and into a lazy cartwheel, fire breaking out along her hull.

"Ze other ships hawe ceased firing, Keptin. Ve are maintaining our course to ze _Poseidon_."

"Thank you, Mr. Chekov." Kirk ran a hand over his face, studying the two remaining bogeys. They seemed to have stopped moving, although they had not dropped out of attack formation. "Lt. Uhura, contact the Klingons' captain. Failing that, get me through to Captain Davidson."

"Aye sir." Uhura turned to her console and busily worked the controls. After a moment, she glanced up. "I'm putting the Klingons on the main screen, Captain."

Kirk barely had time to thank her before the glaring face of a large male Klingon filled the front of the bridge. His face was craggy and lined, though his hair was still dark, brushed back into a threatening warrior's cut. His eyes rolled and he gnashed his teeth.

"Who are you?" he roared, and the sound boomed around the now-silent bridge.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk. Who are you?" Kirk was vaguely disconcerted by the unhinged-looking Klingon. This wasn't what he had been expecting. Then again, nothing about this situation was normal.

"Federation swine," mused the Klingon. He laughed and the sound grated painfully. "Now you will know of my pain. I am Krel, once a warlord and now reduced to slaving this way for a-" he choked back the rest of the sentence in a gurgle. After coughing, he fixed his eyes once again on Kirk. "Enough! We are enemies, and that is enough."

Kirk traded glances with Uhura. She shook her head, obviously as bemused as he.

"Captain Krel, do you realize that by attacking the _Poseidon_, you are violating the terms of the truce between the Klingons and the Federation? What you are doing will be treated as an act of war and you and your men taken as prisoners in accordance."

"Do your worst," hissed Krel, grimacing. "We are already under the constant threat of death." He cut the transmission and vanished from the viewscreen.

"Anyvun else think zat vas odd?" asked Chekov, staring at the view of space that had replaced him. "Oh, Keptin! Zey hawe begun to vheel around again. And… Zey've fallen out of formation?"

"Captain, they're firing on the _Poseidon_ again," said Sulu. "_Poseidon_'s shields are at fifteen percent."

"Target them both, and fire photon torpedoes," commanded Kirk. He expected at least one of the remaining Klingon ships to turn and target the _Enterprise_. At this point, the _Poseidon_ couldn't put up much of a fight, and his starship was posing the bigger threat. "Red Alert, shields up."

"Aye sir. Klingon shields are sewenty percent… fifty percent…."

Any minute now, one of those ships would spin and fire.

"Captain, vun of ze ships is turning."

Now.

-aaa-

"What the hell's goin' on out there?" growled Bones, studying the red light blinking on the wall. "Did we reach the _Poseidon_? Do they need medical assistance?" He busied himself with making up a few more anesthetic hypos. "Anyone want to bother keeping me informed on this ship?"

The door to his office hissed open. "Doctor, Ensign Richards has been cleared for duty. The pain in his leg has disappeared completely." Nurse Chapel checked the padd she was holding and frowned. "There also seem to be an increasing number of flu cases. I shall prepare a vaccine for the crew."

"Thank you, Christine." Bones ran a hand through his hair. "Can you make sure we have at least thirty beds free? I have a bad feeling about this alert."

"Yes, Doctor." She strode out of his office and out into the medical ward.

Bones watched her go, glad to have someone so competent on his staff. She was relatively new to the _Enterprise_, but he could already tell that she would be good for the ward. He didn't have to worry if she was in charge on the floor. Perhaps he'd go up to the bridge and find out what the matter was.

"Doctor…" Chapel had reappeared by the door and looked troubled. "Mr. Spock is awake. He's asking for you."

"So soon?" Bones followed his nurse out into the ward and stopped at the foot of Spock's bed. The Vulcan had folded his hands together on the coverlet and was sitting up. He looked no different from the overtired Spock that Bones had put to bed not an hour earlier, but something about the set of his mouth showed that he was… concerned, if not upset.

"Doctor," greeted Spock.

"Are you all right?" Bones examined the Vulcan's vital signs, but both he and the baby were improving normally.

"Yes, Doctor. My physical status is actually within acceptable bounds for my condition, now. Thank you."

"Well, if you want to get up, I'm going to have to burst your bubble. No way you're back on duty for at least a few days." Bones crossed his arms belligerently.

"No, that is not my intention. In this matter, at least, I shall defer to your judgment." Spock's lips twitched up in the very briefest smile at the expression on Bones's face. "I only wished to inform you that I have detected an unknown telepathic force. It is quite loud."

"You mean another life form? Here?" Bones blinked in surprise. "I think you ought to tell Jim. What can you hear?"

"Static," declared the Vulcan. "Its thoughts, if that is what they are, are not decipherable. However, it is a powerful presence if it is becoming known to me. This… has never happened before." He examined his hand as if musing on his touch-telepathy.

"Right," said Bones. "I'm going to call the captain."

-aaa-

"Ze enemy wessel is turning, Keptin, but she iz not targeting us!" declared Chekov, his pale eyebrows flying up. "She iz preparing to suicide-bomb ze _Poseidon_. Vhat should ve do?"

Kirk stood from his chair and paced the bridge in agitation. "Scotty," he barked, slapping the comm unit on his chair, "I need you to prepare the transporters. How long do you need to get the _Poseidon_'s crew and passengers aboard?"

"Ach, at least ten minutes, Cap'n," said the chief engineer.

"I'll get that for you." Kirk turned to the viewscreen. "Sulu, get me closer to that warbird. Chekov, activate the tractor beam. We're going to pull it away from the _Poseidon_. In the mean time, Uhura, I want you to send a cease and desist order to the Klingon ships. Clear?"

"Aye, sir," responded the bridge, putting the plan into action. It didn't take long for the warbird to be captured, and, once it was far enough away from the _Poseidon_, the _Enterprise _decimated her shields and rendered her inoperable.

"Cap'n, transporters are functional and ready," buzzed Scotty from the comm.

"Excellent. Uhura, please notify Captain Davidson of our plans. And call Bones, too." He glanced back at the one remaining warbird on the screen. It wasn't making any move to attack. "Scotty, start beaming them aboard. I'll try to make contact with-"

And the two warbirds self-destructed in jets of flame.

"Shields holding, Keptin," said Chekov, uncertainly. He was staring, amazed, at the quickly dispersing explosions. "Vhy did zey not try to run? Or negotiate?"

"I… don't know," admitted Kirk. He blinked. "Perhaps Captain Davidson will know more?" Just then the comm buzzed again. "Kirk."

"Jim, there's something you should know," said Bones. "Spock's detected a- Spock, are you all right?" His voice faded, like he had turned.

"What's wrong with Spock?" asked Kirk, his shoulders tensing involuntarily.

"He heard some kind of alien," declared Bones. "Static, in his head, I guess. He's fine. He says it's gone now, but that… that it screamed? I don't know, Jim. I'm a doctor, not a xenobiologist; I don't really know what to make of it."

"…Right," said Kirk. Why was this mission becoming more and more complicated? "I'll be down in half an hour or so. Did you get Uhura's message?"

"Yes. I've got enough beds prepared for the whole crew if they're needed. Are they here, yet?"

"Scotty'll send them to you now. Kirk out."

It took a few more minutes, but soon enough Captain Hester Davidson had arrived on the bridge. She was a stocky woman in her mid-forties with a rust-colored helmet of hair and a rather deep voice for a woman. Kirk welcomed her, but wasn't really interested in exchanging pleasantries.

"Captain Davidson, I understand that this is the first time you've encountered Klingons on your route."

"Yes, sir." She shook her head. "Beats the hell outta me why they'd be in here so far."

"Are you aware that there have been previous Klingon attacks in this sector?"

She looked startled. "Really? No, sir, I hadn't heard that. Rest assured that I would never have shipped passengers into such a dangerous- I always have my clients' safety as my top priority, sir."

Kirk smiled. "No one's questioning that, Captain." He paused for a moment, his mind working frantically, though his face was as composed as always. "Please make use of our medical facilities if you need them. Rooms and meals have been specially prepared for your crew and clients. If you need anything, feel free to contact me or one of my security officers."

"I will do that, sir. Thank you." She gave a short nod and left the bridge, understanding her dismissal. As soon as the lift doors closed behind her, Kirk let out a sigh and ran his hands back though his hair.

"Wow. Okay. She didn't know about those attacks… Starfleet didn't know. How the hell did this get past the galaxy's best and brightest? Anyone?" He frowned. "I'm heading down to the sickbay. Sulu, you have the conn."

"Yes, sir."

-aaa-

"It was as if many voices were speaking at once, so loud and so many that no single word could be made out. It registered as static," explained Spock, his hand clasped in Kirk's. Bones had gone to see to the injured of the _Poseidon_. So far it seemed as if no one had been badly hurt.

"That's really weird," sighed Kirk. "Do you know where it was coming from?"

"No. However, the sound stopped when the Klingon vessels exploded, if I am figuring the time correctly."

"…They were carrying unknown life-forms on their ships? This is growing serious." They sat in silence for a moment. "What do we know? Klingons have been attacking frequently in this sector, and for some reason Starfleet forgot to make a report on that." This statement was laced with sarcasm.

"And the Klingons are apparently not following usual rules of engagement or their own strategy," said Spock.

"These attacks coincide with trips made by the _Poseidon_, though Captain Davidson was also unaware of them and none have been successful."

"The Klingons also seem to have been carrying some unknown telepathic species on their ships."

Both thought for a minute.

"I'm not getting anything yet," said Kirk. "Is it possible that these telepathic beings could control the Klingons? They were acting odd… As we've noted."

"Speculation will get us nowhere," declared Spock.

"Arrg! I know. I just wish someone would give me some answers!"

The comm whistled. "Captain," said Uhura, once Kirk had answered it, "We are receiving a transmission."

"Where from?"

"An Orion vessel, sir. It's coming from the direction of Ariadne Majora." She sounded stressed. "There's only one message: 'I have the information you need.'"

Kirk traded a glance with his first officer. "I'll be right up."

* * *

So, if you liked it, or if you hated it, please review! I don't personally think this chapter is as good as some of the others, but it _was_ written over the course of months... Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out more quickly, but I can't promise anything.

Uh, live long and prosper!


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